


Temptations of the Wicked - Parables

by mevima, un-shit-yourself (fenix_down)



Series: TotW [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Blasphemy, Dirty Talk, Frottage, M/M, Masturbation, Modern AU, Priest Kink, Riding, Riding Crops, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Spanking, cock whipping, dom/sub dynamics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 09:01:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mevima/pseuds/mevima, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fenix_down/pseuds/un-shit-yourself
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of side stories written for Temptations of the Wicked, because we couldn't leave the universe alone. Most if not all will be rated explicit, and most but not all will be Anders/Male Hawke and take place after the main story, unless otherwise specified.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Handers 1:1 - Public Indecency

"Isn't this place great?" Hawke whispered as they were escorted through the restaurant. It was dim inside, with a tiny chandelier over each table providing extra light and a strange sense of romantic privacy. "This is like our first real date."

The hostess showed them to a cozy booth, laying out menus, and Hawke thanked her as he sat. "It looks expensive," Anders frowned, taking the opposite side, still glancing around the room. He'd been fretting about it since they settled on the place, and Hawke grasped his hands, drawing his attention.

"We can pick something cheaper next time, okay? But I refuse to skimp on our first night out. Look, there's even a tablecloth." Hawke grinned, obviously pleased.

Anders offered his boyfriend a slight smile; though still reluctant to have so much money spent on just a meal, Hawke quite enjoyed being generous, and he should let himself be treated every now and then. It _was_ their first date, after all.

He opened the menu, his eyes widening as he noted the prices. "The tablecloth means they can charge twice as much for everything, I take it?" He glanced up with a frown at Hawke's sigh. "I'm sorry, love, I won't complain anymore. I don't mean to be grumpy, I'm just not used to this yet."

"Complain if you must, but I'd be much happier if you just enjoyed it. Don't look at the prices," Hawke advised. "Just pick something that looks nice, and don't forget we're having dessert, because of course we're having dessert." Looking over the menu himself, Hawke blinked back his surprise - he'd picked the place because it was supposed to be fancy and romantic, but it really _was_ quite pricey.

"Whatever you say, love," Anders acquiesced, and was rewarded with Hawke’s bright grin.

Their waitress greeted them with a listing of the chef specials and wine pairings, and Hawke ordered a bottle of wine for them to share. She murmured something polite and left to give them a moment, but when Anders' attention returned to the menu, he felt something brush against his calf. His gaze darted up to meet Hawke's falsely innocent expression while the man’s shoe continued to move lightly against Anders' leg.

"Do you need something, Hawke?" Anders asked wryly.

"Usually," Hawke said, a broad grin on his face, watching Anders' face as he moved. "Why, is something wrong?"

Anders gave him a warning look as he set the elegant menu down. His gorgeous brat was always just _begging_ to be taught a lesson. Shifting, he trapped the intruding foot between his knees, arching a brow at Hawke's unapologetic shrug. "You want to play, do you?" he mused softly.

That dangerous glare was a part of Anders that Hawke loved, but he still swallowed uncertainly alongside his tiny nod, and the blond released his shoe, feigning indifference while he went back to perusing the menu. Hawke knew he had initiated something, but he was never quite sure what Anders would do. He shivered, deciding he'd just order something simple, because there was no way he could concentrate on the menu while he was thinking of the promise in that look.

Anders was perfectly content to draw out whatever Hawke was expecting, enjoying how the man fidgeted nervously in the booth while he took his time deciding what he would order. The waitress returned, and after pouring their wine, serving bread, and taking their menus, they were left alone. 

Lifting his wine glass, Anders made a show of taking a sip, and casually began a conversation as if Hawke's earlier antics hadn't occurred. His lover relaxed a bit as the two talked about the changes in their lives and the clinic, until, without so much as a pause in the story about cleaning the back lot, Anders let the toe of his boot trail slowly up Hawke's calf. His expression betrayed nothing, even when Hawke took in a surprised breath.

Hiding his feelings had never been one of Hawke's talents, especially hiding _aroused_ feelings. His eyelids drooped as Anders' boot stroked his calf, moving upward teasingly, and he began to stutter in his responses, all his attention below the table where insistent pressure against his inner thigh encouraged his legs apart. When he looked up again, the blond was watching him closely, and Hawke bit his lip against a moan.

A hint of a smirk showed on Anders' lips, and his foot moved deliberately slowly, eyes fixed on the subtle twitches in Hawke's face, until the sole of his boot rested between Hawke's legs. The conversation trailed off, and he delighted in the way Hawke's eyes glazed over as he pressed against his lover's trousers, light and teasing. The brunet had reacted beautifully to this when he'd asked Anders for the same thing during one of their previous sessions, though Anders was certainly not wearing the same boots out in public; the new ones Hawke had bought him were much more subtle, ankle height with a low heel, but they seemed to elicit the same submissive behaviour.

"Is there a problem, pet?" Anders asked quietly, his hands folded in front of him, the picture of calm.

Hawke shook his head, then choked out, "No problem." He leaned forward to brace his elbows on the table, and tried not to squirm while Anders pressed more firmly into his groin, cock hardening under the attention.

It was hard to resist thrusting forward against that unyielding boot, and Hawke was caught panting when the waitress approached to refill their glasses and deliver their salads. When he sat up hurriedly, the pressure increased deliberately, so while Anders was thanking the woman, Hawke could only clutch at the edge of the table, trying unsuccessfully for a bland smile.

Anders waited until their server disappeared to chuckle at Hawke's expression. "You need to work on being more subtle, I think," he murmured. "You don't want to draw attention to yourself, do you?"

"I'll be good," Hawke said quickly, swallowing and reaching for his silverware.

"We'll see," Anders replied with a smirk, just resting his foot against Hawke's groin as he began eating.

It was a struggle to ignore the heavy boot, especially as Anders kept changing the pressure randomly, just to see how he’d react. Sometimes he’d pull away entirely, letting Hawke relax and have a few uninterrupted bites before Anders began toying with him again. When their main courses arrived, Hawke was leaning back in the seat, eyes closed, muscles tense in an attempt to keep himself from squirming too obviously.

The waitress gave him a concerned glance, but politely stayed quiet, and the pair didn't offer any excuses; Hawke sat up at the sight of his steaming steak, and Anders nodded his thanks.

As soon as they were safely alone again, the force to his cock increased sharply, just long enough to grab Hawke's attention, and he muffled a groan. "Not much like a first date any more," he observed shakily.

"Depends on what you count as a 'date.' I've had some interesting ones," Anders replied with amusement, then his tone changed to scolding. "You drew attention. I need you to do better, pet. Keep sitting up straight, don't slouch again."

Hawke nodded obediently, eyes falling briefly shut as Anders pressed his foot in harder, and then the blond eased off, gesturing to Hawke's dinner and starting in on his own steak. They ate, and chatted, Anders teasing his lover throughout, and by the end of their meal Hawke's face was flushed darker with arousal and the struggle not to squirm against the tormenting boot.

Anders favoured Hawke with a smirk, and let his foot drop as he murmured, "Good boy." He watched the tension in Hawke's shoulders ease, expression fading into relief. But only a moment later, Anders' foot returned, more agile now clad only in a sock, and his toes pressed against Hawke's erection as he licked his lips. "You mentioned something about dessert?"

"I can't believe you want to stay any longer," Hawke groaned. He could hardly keep his eyes open, trembling with need as Anders flexed against him and his arousal flooded higher. Hopefully, he asked, "You don't want to go somewhere where we can have some real fun?"

"I thought we _were_ having fun, pet. Are you not enjoying yourself?" Anders asked teasingly. His foot rubbed hard in a steady rhythm against Hawke’s length, and he subtly adjusted himself under the table. "You promised me dessert."

Hawke buried his head in his hands, sinking his teeth into his palm to hide a moan. He thrust as subtly as he could against the pressure, mind fogged with lust from the dirty fact of Anders’ toes digging into him where anyone could see if they came close enough. "Order what you want then, I can't think," he said unsteadily. He was going to come in his trousers if Anders kept this up. "Just please don't stop."

Anders ordered chocolate mousse to split between them, toying with Hawke idly until it arrived. He took a slow bite, feeling Hawke's gaze on him as his eyes slipped shut, a low moan escaping in a calculated show of appreciation. He smirked at Hawke's low whimper, and dragged the spoon through the chocolate again. "Do you want some?" he asked coyly, holding it out.

The thought of eating wasn't exactly tempting at the moment, but Hawke opened his mouth obediently, letting himself pretend that the noise that escaped was from enjoying the food, not his lover's toes rubbing him firmly in reward. "Good boy," Anders murmured, scraping the last bit of chocolate off on Hawke's lower lip, eyes bright as he watched the brunet’s tongue flick out.

"Are you going to come for me, pet?" Anders' voice was low as he fed Hawke another careful bite. "Right here in the restaurant?" Sliding his foot in a deliberate rhythm, knowing the slow, measured pulse would make Hawke's eyes glaze in pleasure, Anders warned, "Don't you dare give us away, or I'll stop."

Hawke whined, and Anders chuckled, taking another mouthful of the decadent dessert for himself. "Please," Hawke panted, as quietly as he could, fists clenched on the table. "Please, I'm trying, I'm close."

The waitress chose that precise moment to stop by and drop off their bill, and Anders thanked her graciously, assuring her that everything had been wonderful. The woman glanced at Hawke, who offered a tight-lipped smile in return, hands clasped together in front of him. Anders rubbed harder, and as soon as the waitress had moved away Hawke let out a quiet sob, one hand covering his mouth. The blond chuckled darkly, slowly licking chocolate off his spoon. "Maker, you're lovely when you're so wound up," he said appreciatively. "You've been so good for me. I want you to come, pet." He punctuated the sentence with harder pressure, grinding against Hawke's straining cock.

Hawke abandoned any pretense of conversation or poise, focusing instead on the pleasure radiating from his achingly hard cock, on the rhythm and the need as he desperately tried to restrain his reactions. He bit his lip, rocking his hips forward, then shoved his knuckles between his teeth to muffle the choked whimpers he made as he rode Anders' foot against the booth. It was only minutes before he came gasping, cock throbbing in his trousers, trembling as he soaked through the fabric.

"Good boy," Anders breathed, eyes dark with lust, letting his foot rock against Hawke until the man stopped squirming in his seat. He calmly pushed the dessert dish aside and slipped his boot back on, adjusting himself in his trousers once more. Hawke fixed him with a desperate, dazed look, and Anders smiled as he finished his wine.

After he'd taken care of paying, Hawke allowed himself to breathe, slowly calming down. He left a generous tip, guilty at the thought of what they'd just done in public, though it had been a thrill he certainly wouldn't mind repeating, even as sweaty and sticky as he remained under his clothes.

In the car, Anders grabbed him by the shirt collar before they buckled, pulling Hawke in for a hard kiss, and they both moaned into it, releasing some of the frustration of the enforced quiet as their mouths slid together. Hawke grinned when he was finally allowed to draw back, resting his arms on the steering wheel. "That went better than I could have hoped."

"You were lovely. But now, you'd better get us home quickly, because I need to be inside you," Anders purred, stroking the back of Hawke's neck. His boyfriend let out another soft whimper and quickly buckled, starting the car.

The townhouse seemed impossibly far away, and Anders was already aching from watching Hawke's display in the restaurant. As they drove, his hand slid against his clothed erection, rubbing himself slowly with the base of his palm, other hand still toying with the short hairs against Hawke's collar. The man glanced over, eyes widening as he took in the sight, then forced himself to turn back to the road.

It quickly became too much, only being able to watch out of the corner of his eye as Anders touched himself in the darkened car, and Hawke abruptly turned down a side street, his search for a private spot made easy by the late hour. Anders gave him a curious glance, sitting up in his seat, and Hawke parked close to the side of a building.

"What are you doing?" the blond asked. Hawke reached wordlessly over him into the glove compartment, and pulled out a bottle and a condom, raising a pointed eyebrow.

Anders grinned, stroking Hawke’s cheek. "Naughty boy," he said, taking the bottle in his other hand. "You want me to fuck you right here, still messy from what I did to you?"

"You want it," Hawke said, leaning in to give Anders a kiss. "You were practically jacking off in the car." Another kiss, nipping at Anders' lower lip, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, and Hawke was nearly climbing into his lover's lap, murmuring urgently, "I don't think I can get it up again, thanks to your fucking _boot_ on my _dick_ , but yes, Maker, fuck me."

It took some cramped maneuvering in the passenger seat for Anders to unfasten his trousers and bare himself down to his thighs, especially with Hawke still grinding on his lap as he tried to do the same. Anders pitched the seat back and gestured for Hawke to turn around, until his lover was seated in his lap, arms braced on the dashboard.

Anders didn't waste time teasing, pouring out a generous amount of lube and stretching Hawke with two fingers as his lover squirmed. "We have to be quick, love," he murmured, gripping Hawke's hip with his free hand.

"Yeah, but not nearly as quiet," Hawke panted, bowing his head. "Come on, I'm fine, I'm ready." His cock didn't stir between his legs, worn out from the long grind at dinner, but he still wanted, aching for Anders to fill him and take pleasure from his body, the twisting, hurried fingers not nearly enough.

Withdrawing quickly, Anders slipped the condom on and pulled Hawke's hips back, using his hand to position himself against his lover's hole, thumb brushing the slick rim. He guided Hawke to sink down, getting a perfect view of his own cock sliding into that hot vice, and let out a gratified moan when he was fully seated. Praise fell from his lips as they started a fast, harsh rhythm.

"Fuck yes, I love how you take me, you feel so good," he groaned, pulling Hawke down to meet each thrust.

Hawke grit his teeth at the stretch, sparks of pleasure running through his tired body as he worked himself on Anders’ cock. There hadn't been quite enough prep and it was cramped inside the car, but none of that mattered as Hawke focused on the noises his lover was making, squeezing tight to hear him gasp, arching his back at the soft adoration in Anders' voice. "Come on, fuck me, come in me," he begged, counterpoint to the blond's praise. "I wanna feel you get off, _fuck_ I wish you could really fill me up."

Fingers dug into Hawke's skin as Anders bucked up faster, panting and moaning, his eyes fixed on the delicious sight of his cock burying deep again and again. "Soon, pet, fuck... I'll come in you and leave you dripping with it, so you feel it leaking out under your clothes and you remember just how _hard_ I fucked you."

The mental image was finally enough, his nails leaving bruises on Hawke's hips as his movements turned ragged and desperate, and Anders came with a heavy groan.

"Promise?" Hawke panted, closing his eyes in bliss when he felt Anders stiffen against him, enjoying the short, low sounds his lover always made when he finished. With Anders still gasping and rolling his hips beneath him, Hawke sank down until he could relax in the blond's lap, feeling full and content when he leaned back to rest his head on Anders' shoulder. Turning just enough to brush a kiss over Anders' cheek, Hawke asked, "Can I have that?"

"You can have anything, pet." Anders reached up to run his fingers through the short strands of Hawke’s hair as he caught his breath. "I'll fill you up anytime you want it, I promise."

A few minutes later, Anders softening inside him, Hawke groaned and forced himself upright, sucking in a breath as he was emptied. There wasn't much they could do about the tacky lube clinging to his skin, but they both struggled to right themselves as best they could in the tight confines, alternately cursing and laughing. Anders tied off the condom, then declared Hawke’s trousers a loss anyway, and wiped his hands off on them, to Hawke’s cry of indignation.

The squishy, sore feeling made Hawke wrinkle his nose when he finally landed back in the driver's seat. "Not a bad first date, I think," he said, glancing over with a saucy grin to make sure Anders was buckled before he started the car. "Wanna go out again sometime?"

"If it involves making a mess of you again, certainly," Anders replied with a laugh, stroking Hawke's hair affectionately. "Though maybe next time, we should save that part until after dinner."


	2. Handers 2:1 - Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you wish to follow along with the boys and their list, [here](https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1mTbf8J_Q7UBxJefDL3Od8NHvGAkeiCPtLVeTQ1bgP50/edit?usp=sharing) is a link to their answers.

The checklist, Anders said, was something they probably should have done at the beginning of their relationship, to get a feel for each other. But late was better than never, and so Hawke took the pages of half-familiar words to consider. Some he felt were obvious, some bizarre, but he dutifully set about marking potential kinks with his interest level: “N” for “Never,” “5” for “Fuck Yes,” and numbers decreasing in interest down to “0”. He also added a “C” to mark things he was curious to try; no doubt Anders would be able to explain anything he couldn’t figure out.

A day later, Hawke brought his completed papers to where Anders sat at his new desk, and the blond favoured him with an approving smile, shutting his laptop and gathering his own copy from its neat stack. They quietly retired to the couch.

They swapped lists in silence, and both spent a moment to skim the other’s responses while Hawke curled up close and rested his head on Anders’ shoulder. Hawke’s knee bounced rhythmically in either anticipation or nervousness, so Anders opened by comparing something they already knew. “No surprises on the answers for ‘toys.’”

Hawke snorted. “So much of this shit I didn’t really understand. Like… aromas? How is ‘aromas’ a kink?”

“I would count it as scented oils or candles,” Anders answered.

“Oh. ‘Sexy’ candles.” Hawke’s lips twitched. “Like the ones at the Chantry that make you smell delicious. We should take some.”

“I won’t _steal candles_ from the Chantry, but we can buy some,” Anders replied. “What do you think is a ‘hard’ beating?” He pointed to the “2” Hawke had written.

“Ah, I wasn’t sure. The belt got too hard when you stopped pausing.” Hawke fidgeted a little, uncertain.

“I’ve seen quite brutal beatings; think bruising ribs. I assume you don’t want that?” Anders had no personal wish to go so far, and at Hawke’s vehement denial, he nodded. “Good.”

Hawke leaned forward to grab the pen from the coffee table, replacing his previous number with a “0” while Anders held the papers steady. “Because _ouch_ ,” he muttered. Still, he relaxed a little, knowing they were going to discuss details and not just take the list at face value.

The “Bondage - Intricate” line, and Anders’ interested response, caught his eye. “I don’t think you’ve ever done anything intricate with rope, other than winding it around my arms and legs.”

“Have you ever seen rope corsetry, or anything knotted and wrapped around the torso? It’s called ‘shibari.’ That sort of thing can get very intricate. I’ve done it before. It would also work under your clothing, which you said you were interested in. Would you be comfortable wearing it?” 

“Probably. In public?” The first blush of the night spread lightly across Hawke’s cheeks.

Anders turned to press his lips against his lover’s temple, and murmured, “You could walk around in it all day, or at work, with my ropework rubbing against your skin.”

“And you can grab it and drag me around,” Hawke added eagerly. Anders made a pleased noise.

Noting the multiple scribbles of “WTF” scattered around Hawke’s list, Anders smirked. “Such a wide range of extremes.”

“Hey, some of this shit is bizarre,” Hawke protested. “Which one are you looking at?” After Anders tapped a line, Hawke wrinkled his nose. “I really don’t understand why someone would want a _cattle prod_.”

“The same reason they felt the need to list ‘chamber pots,’” Anders said, amused. Hawke only looked increasingly disturbed, and Anders shook his head. “We’re in agreement on these things, don’t worry.”

“Okay,” Hawke said slowly. “You remember, when we were first starting this, and I said that you could do anything? Or some stupid shit like that? And you said, ‘um, no, but we’ll talk about that later’?” Anders nodded, and Hawke met his eyes to say emphatically, “ _Thank you_.”

The blond could only laugh. “Slutty clothing,” Anders quoted next, mouth quirking at Hawke’s interest.

The man grinned. “Gotta get attention somehow.”

“You get my attention quite well without it, pet.”

Hawke peered upward through his lashes and bit at his lip teasingly. “You can’t tell me you don’t want to see me in jeans, cut off just below my ass. And a button-down shirt, open at the chest?”

Humming in pleasure at the image, Anders said, “It seems we have some shopping to do.”

“I can lounge on the couch like that, or… wash one of our cars,” Hawke continued with a grin.

Anders raised an eyebrow, his tone light. “Make a show of yourself for the neighbourhood?”

“Not for the neighbourhood, for _you_. Though they can look if they want. I am very nice to look at.” 

The blond was unmoved by Hawke’s flirtatious eyebrow wiggle. “You are, which means I’m inclined to keep you for myself.” He smirked at the way Hawke subsided, feeling the man’s subtle shudder against his side.

A minute later, Hawke noted, “You said you liked lingerie, and corsets. What, you want to see me pretty?”

“If you wish,” Anders said noncommittally.

“It… wouldn’t hurt.” Hawke hesitated; he wasn’t especially interested, but if it was something Anders wanted to see, he wasn’t exactly averse either. “I might feel silly.”

“You might,” Anders nodded, “and that’s fine. But I’d like to see you in silk. It would be soft against your skin.” He ran the back of his hand over Hawke’s shoulder, smiling lightly. “Just think of me touching you through it.” Hawke made an unconvinced noise, and he added, “Only if you’re comfortable, love.”

“Like I said, it wouldn’t hurt.” Hawke shrugged.

“Not until I spanked you.”

His lover choked at the thought. “That is unfair.”

“Who said I ever play fair, pet?” Anders replied, teeth flashing as he teased. “Besides, you were the one who wrote a ‘3’ under ‘high heel wearing.’”

Hawke coughed again, his face flushing. “That, um. That was an impulse. I don’t know what I…”

Anders let his fingers caress the back of Hawke’s neck, and the man went silent. “Me or you?”

“...Me?”

“Shall I pick out something for you to wear for me?” the blond purred.

Hawke bit his lip, avoiding the question. “It sounds precarious. Hard to stand and balance.” After another nervous glance, he added, “That’s… a good thing.”

Pursing his lips, Anders commented, “They’d make your ass look even better than it does now.”

That tore away Hawke’s hesitation, and he barked a laugh, grinning sidelong at his lover. “You think that’s possible?” Anders only smiled, and tucked Hawke further into his side.

The respite didn’t last long, as Anders arched both brows, phrasing his words carefully. “You wish to have your cock tortured?”

Hawke flinched a little, flushing dark with embarrassment, and buried his face in Anders’ shoulder until his voice came out muffled. At this rate, he was just going to stay permanently red. “I… I liked it when you used your boot.” The hand in his hair wasn’t unexpected, but it was relaxing nonetheless.

“You did.” Anders’ voice was still light, careful. “But ‘cock torture’ is generally _stepping_ on it. Twisting, hitting, crushing. Much more violent than what we’ve been doing. Is that what you want?”

Shaking his head emphatically, Hawke fidgeted with his fingers. “I don’t know if there was a… a milder entry for that?”

Anders flipped through the list, certain there had been something. After a moment, he smirked. “There we are. Would you like me to whip your cock, pet?” When Hawke shuddered against him, the blond continued, “A small flogger would be best, or perhaps a riding crop.”

“I…” Hawke’s voice was a bit choked, his face hot. “Can we try?”

“Of course.” Anders smiled warmly, tilting Hawke’s face up, and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. “This is so I can learn what you’re interested in, and what I may be able to do for you. I’m not going to judge you for the wicked little thoughts that run through your head, love.”

“It’s harder to talk about than I expected,” Hawke said apologetically.

Leaning in a little closer, Anders murmured, “If you talk about the naughty things you want, it’s incentive to do them to you.”

The little smile on Hawke’s face grew into a grin. “And you do like making me howl.”

Their comfortable tableau was broken slightly when Hawke’s eyes caught on a line and he stiffened. “Whoa. Wait. You want to… this one.” Uneasy at actually saying it, he pointed to the page where Anders had indicated a willingness for “fantasy rape.” “Seriously?”

Anders had known some of the subjects would cause contention, and wasn’t exactly surprised at Hawke’s horror. “I don’t _want_ to, I am _willing_ to,” he clarified gently, keeping himself neutral on the subject. “If you want it. There is a difference.”

“I…” Hawke flushed, suddenly thinking of ways one would _want_ that, how it would work, what it might feel like “That’s a little…”

“Some people enjoy it because of the fact that it’s a fantasy. And, of course, your word will always still apply.”

“It sounds… vicious.” Hawke was still thinking about it. Why was he still thinking about it? That was perverse, and horrific, and… the thought of Anders pulling his head back by the hair and forcing his cock down his throat was perhaps just a bit too frighteningly attractive.

Stroking a hand gently down Hawke’s back, Anders coaxed him back to his side, relieved when he felt the stiffness ease. “It can be, yes. Depending on the rules both people set. Though you do like it when I’m vicious.”

“I do,” Hawke allowed. “I like it when you’re vicious, and cruel, and rough.”

“If you want that, I’d be happy to give it to you.”

“I shouldn’t.” Hawke said it quickly, reflexively, although he wasn’t quite sure what was causing the little curl of heat and was almost afraid to examine it.

Anders tilted Hawke’s chin up until he could meet his lover’s eyes. “There is no ‘should’ here, pet. Only what makes you shiver, and blush, and _want_. I want to give those things to you; I do love to watch your reactions.”

Hawke smiled shyly, and glanced back down to consider for a moment, trying to figure out what was so appealing about the idea. Eventually, he said, “Maybe not quite like that. Not… not _rape_.” He winced as he forced the word out. “But… rough?”

The admission was like being given a key to one of Hawke’s secret desires, and Anders was more than happy to play to it, voice lowering as he purred darkly, “No careful treatment? No checking to see if you’re all right? Just… using you, for my own pleasure and amusement?”

Hawke gasped at the spike of desire that went through his body at the words. “ _Yes_.”

Watching the way Hawke’s body curled in, the way his breathing raced even more as he thought about it, brought a slow, filthy smile to Anders’ face. “That can be arranged.” Hawke let out a whimper, and Anders licked his lips, turning back to the papers and shuffling them slightly, as if he weren’t aroused at the thought.

The two continued to peruse the list, commenting on some of the things one or the other of them had marked an interest in. Hawke had indicated a desire for knife play, but was quick to clarify that he didn’t want to be actually cut, just teased by a blade sliding over his skin. Discussing immobilization led to Anders lamenting the fact that Hawke’s townhouse didn’t have much room for “equipment,” to which Hawke asked, “Is it impractical to move house just to build a sex dungeon?”

Then there was an item that gave Anders pause; Hawke had shown interest under “Include Others,” and he fought against a swell of jealousy at the notion. “How would you want to include others in our games?” he asked, pointing to the number.

Hawke shrugged against his side. “Being shown off?”

“Hmm. Having others watch while I toy with you?” The thought was alluring, truth be told, and much less alarming than actually having someone else in their bed.

“Seeing my reactions to the filthy things you do to me?” Hawke suggested. “It’s an… attractive thought. I might actually be obedient for you.”

“I doubt it,” Anders scoffed. “You know how possessive I am of you. I don’t want anyone else touching you.”

“I’d still be yours,” Hawke pointed out. “But then, if you don’t want someone else, what did you mean by double penetration?” The brunet indicated Anders’ “3” and his own “C”.

“Toys. Unless you would prefer another person?”

Hawke frowned, thinking. “I’m not sure. It sounds overwhelming as it is, but when I imagined it, it was like… being surrounded?”

Anders placed the stack of papers to the side, and turned slightly to face Hawke, reluctant but willing to discuss the prospect with his lover, if it would make him happy. “There’s a tendency for jealousy and other negative emotions with more than one partner. _If_ we had someone else with us, I would need to make sure they knew their role, and the fact that you’re mine. Anything they would do must go through me. I don’t want you hurt.”

Hawke shook his head quickly, taking Anders’ hand and squeezing it. “I don’t want anyone _specific_ , or another relationship. I’m happy with you. But another body?” He snorted, smirking at the blond. “If I could have two of you, that would be perfect.”

“I don’t know if you would survive,” Anders replied with amusement.

“I’d die trying. It’d be a happy death.” Hawke grinned, bringing Anders’ hand to his lips to kiss his knuckles. “It’s not vital or anything. It could stay a fantasy, easy. But it we… added someone for a night, they wouldn’t be anyone important to me. Does that even make sense?”

Anxieties quelled, Anders smiled softly. “It does. That would be preferable, believe me.”

“Not a sharing man, are you?” his lover teased, eyes going dark as Anders’ hand moved to his collar, pulling his black rosary out and twisting it, giving it a hard tug.

“What do you think?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hawke bit his lip, leaning back a bit to feel the pressure tighten. “I think we should finish the list before we get distracted.”

Sighing dramatically, Anders released the strand of beads and picked up the papers, resting his back against the couch again, while Hawke chuckled against his shoulder. The laughter stopped when Anders pointed to a row he had marked with a “3,” and asked, “Speaking of double penetration, do you want to buy a strap-on, pet?”

Hawke laughed nervously, turning his face into Anders’ shirt. “Well, you’ve already got a dick, I just - I like being fucked.”

“Mmm, I know,” Anders purred. “I could fuck you with both the toy and my cock at the same time, stretch you wide.” Hawke made a strangled sound, fingers twitching where they rested in his lap. “The same goes for fisting, since you’re curious about that.”

“I… don’t know?” The brunet squirmed a bit, clenching his hands together. “They both seem intense as fuck. But you’ve done them before?”

“I have. I’d work you up to it, obviously, we’d take the time to stretch you out properly.” Anders’ tone dropped dangerously as he added, “You’d feel so full, pet.” 

He felt Hawke shiver against him, and Anders had to adjust his jeans, cock half-hard just from the thought. “This list is fucking dangerous,” Hawke whimpered, laughing weakly.

“That’s the point,” Anders replied, letting his hand linger when he patted Hawke’s thigh.

Electricity was something that Hawke was interested in, but Anders had never tried, so they set the idea aside for later, and went over a few other minor topics on the list. They both agreed they greatly enjoyed the phone sex they’d engaged in, and would like to do more of it, even though they lived in the same house now. Anders addressed Hawke’s curiosity about being used as furniture, drawing a flush but no definitive answer when he asked teasingly, “Would you like to be my footrest?”

“Piercings?” Hawke prompted, moving on.

“I do enjoy the two you have. They’re such fun to toy with, especially when I pull on them.”

Meeting his boyfriend’s eyes, Hawke licked his lips coyly, sliding a hand up under his shirt until he could tug on a ring. “Like this?” Anders’ eyes narrowed, and Hawke grabbed the other, letting out a gasp for show.

“ _Stop_ ,” Anders ordered, the tone freezing Hawke’s fingers. “We’re not done with the list yet.” Hawke pouted, but slid his hands out of his shirt obediently, and Anders muttered, “Brat. You’re lucky you don’t have a cock piercing as well. I’d thread them all together and make you _scream_.”

The image had Hawke sucking in a breath, squirming in his seat. “Sweet Maker.”

Anders shot him a pleased smirk, and then scoffed. “Speaking of that, I’m not surprised by your answer to ‘religious scenes.’”

“I still idly think of sucking you off behind the pulpit.”

“Thank the Maker you never tried that one,” Anders said sincerely, ears going pink.

Hawke laughed. “I’m impulsive, not _stupid_.”

Deliberately changing the subject, Anders said, “You want me to scratch you up, though.”

With an elaborate shiver, Hawke nodded. “Very much. Remember, I fucking _came_ when you spanked me raw and then raked your nails over it.”

“I do.” Eyeing the man beside him, Anders smiled slightly. “Vividly. It was the first time I ever heard you scream.”

Hawke groaned quietly at the memory of being bent over his desk, clinging to the edge, getting more and more aroused as he took his punishment, until Anders hurt him just right and he howled - and then he couldn’t help but laugh. “You jacked off on me, and then you looked like you’d killed someone.”

Anders snorted, looking offended when Hawke continued to giggle. “Surely you can’t blame me for my hesitations.”

“No, love, it was just funny,” Hawke soothed. “Well. It wasn’t at the time, but it is looking back on it.”

“I’m sorry. I was unfair, then, and I should have known better than to leave you to clean up on your own after that.” The sober words had Hawke tangling his fingers with the blond’s reassuringly.

Anders brought up speech restrictions, and after brief consideration, Hawke grinned. “I don’t think I’d be very obedient. You’d have to punish me a lot to get it through my head.”

A spreader bar was the next toy they decided needed to be added to their collection. Hawke had indicated some curiosity about pet play, but once it was explained, he shook his head. “I’d love to have you pet my tummy and be silly at your feet, but, ah… no, I would not actually like to be your dog. Speaking of hairy beasts, you are _not_ shaving me.”

Despite his neutrality on paper, Anders grinned. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

As Hawke’s attention shifted back to the list, he blinked, and then jabbed a finger down. “What.”

Anders looked at Hawke’s target, where he’d written “3”, and laughed. “Sounding? I’m sure you looked it up and flinched. It’s really not bad, with the proper preparation.”

“Putting something down your dick ‘isn’t bad’?” Hawke demanded. “It sounds _terrifying_.”

“Understandably so.” Anders nodded; he didn’t seem put out by Hawke’s resistance. “It requires a specific tool, lube, patience, and great care. It’s a much different way to feel full.” He shrugged. “I’ve used them before.”

“I…” Hawke couldn’t help but glance at Anders’ crotch. “Really? On other people, or on you?”

Mouth quirking in amusement, Anders said, “Both. If you’re curious, you can try it on me.”

A moment passed while Hawke chewed on his lip, considering the offer. “Would you make noise, and gorgeous faces, like you do when I’m inside you?”

“I might.” Anders laughed softly, cheeks flushing just a bit pink. “You’ll have to find out.”

Hawke looked away, running a hand through his own hair self-consciously. “You really want me to do that to you, don’t you?”

“If you’re comfortable.” When Hawke looked up again, Anders’ expression was serious, and he reached out to smooth down the dark brown locks. “Only ever if you’re comfortable. But I enjoy it, and I think you could too, if you’d ever like to try. If it would reassure you, I would let you do almost anything you’re curious about to me, first.”

“Almost?”

Anders huffed a little at Hawke’s sudden eagerness, tapping the papers. “We all have our limits,” he said dryly.

Discussion over Hawke’s apparent fondness for video cameras led to Anders sultrily suggesting videotaping one of their scenes together so Hawke could see how lovely he looked when he begged. It nearly derailed the rest of the discussion, as his fingers tightening and tugging at Hawke’s hair had his lover nearly whimpering.

“Are we done?” Hawke gasped, clutching Anders’ leg.

“Are we?” the blond asked innocently, making a show of looking over the list. “Are you bored, pet?”

“Not bored, no.” Anders released his grip, and Hawke forced his eyes away from the man’s smirk and back to the list, trying to find something of interest they’d missed. “You don’t like massages?”

“I’d love one, but I don’t expect them,” Anders clarified.

“Isn’t it part of servicing you?” Hawke asked, wiggling his eyebrows. His lover made a noise of agreement, and Hawke grinned as he saw another mark on Anders’ side of the chart. “You’re right, you probably couldn’t trust me pressing on your back, I may decide to pin you down. You said you liked wrestling, after all.”

Anders narrowed his eyes at Hawke, blushing despite his stern expression. “You’re such a disobedient brat.”

“You loved it when I held you down and licked your ass until you came. It’s a hard thing to forget, how well you reacted. Even though I got punished for it.” He sighed sadly, ignoring Anders’ disgruntled expression, and ran a hand up his lover’s thigh. “You made _noise_ , you don’t usually make noise, and that’s hot as fuck.”

Anders scoffed, trying to ignore Hawke’s teasing, but his blush remained. “I prefer hearing how loud you can get for me.”

Hawke responded with a dismissive gesture. “I scream all the time. _You_ screaming is an event.”

The blond grabbed Hawke’s wrist, lifting the eager hand as it neared the fly of his jeans. “Maybe I should punish you again, until you know your place,” he hissed.

The dark tone stopped Hawke’s provocation, and he swallowed nervously. “You’ve got your work cut out for you.”

“I do love a challenge,” Anders replied, tightening his grip. “I bet you would struggle deliciously for me if I pinned _you_ down.”

The cheeky comment died on Hawke’s tongue as the idea took hold. “You want me to fight?”

"You know I enjoy it when you're especially bratty and difficult." Anders gave Hawke a slow smile, his voice lowering to a purr as he continued. "If you wanted me to be _vicious_ , pet, I could force you to your knees, and fuck your mouth against the wall with your arms pinned over your head."

"Oh, fuck," Hawke murmured, lust taking him by surprise.

The blond threw the papers in the direction of the coffee table and leaned in, lips close to Hawke's ear, gaze falling to the obvious tent of his jeans. "You would writhe and twist in my grip so beautifully, dizzy from lack of air, while my cock thrusts into your throat."

As Anders nuzzled at Hawke’s ear, and his body reacted to the filthy suggestions that he didn't know he wanted so badly, the brunet took in a ragged breath. "Yeah, I was right, that list... that list was fucking dangerous."

A chuckle ghosted over Hawke's earlobe, and he shivered as Anders said, "But now I know so many things I can do to you."

"We're done with the list, right?" Hawke glanced hurriedly at the papers on the table, then back to where the blond was crowding him into the couch, swallowing the heat that threatened to overwhelm him. "Right, so we can just... oh, Maker, I'm turned on."

The hand toying with Hawke's hair tightened, Anders' other hand trailing up the man's neck to rest his fingers against Hawke's rapid pulse as his teeth grazed the shell of his ear, pressing his lover against the cushions, relishing the gasp against his palm. "Already so eager, just from talking about it, aren't you pet?"

"You know I am, I get the feeling that was half the point." Hawke was breathing hard, aroused and impatient, but his voice was almost taunting as he added, "Aren’t you going to fuck me?"

"Eventually," Anders murmured, sucking Hawke's earlobe into his mouth and biting down as he tightened his grip on his lover's neck, relishing the harsh gasp that drew. Fingers trailed across Hawke's shirt, tugging a nipple ring hard through the fabric, and he pressed his knee between Hawke's legs, grinding down. "You've given me so many good ideas for ways I can fuck you, I don't know where to start."

"Tell me," Hawke gasped, tilting his head back. "What do you want to do to me, now that we've heard each other's filthy secrets? Are you actually gonna call me on my lunch break and make me hear you touch yourself, and then have to go back to work hard and needy? Sir," he added with a hint of a grin, referencing the phone sex they’d discussed.

"That's too easy," Anders replied, reaching under Hawke's shirt to twist each of his nipple rings in turn, fingers gliding through his chest hair. "You wanted to watch me, didn't you? Perhaps I'll use the camera on your laptop, send you a video while you're at the bar of me touching myself, thinking of you kneeling before me and pressing my cock between your lips."

His thumb stroked down the column of Hawke's throat, the nail tracing over his lover's skin. "And of course, you'd have to go back to work and finish your shift after you watch me come. I bet your cock will be _aching_ by the time you get home," he said darkly.

"I wouldn't be able to get the image out of my head, especially after you said I couldn't touch myself. Would you finally fuck me when I got home, or tease me again and make me wait?" The way Hawke arched and squirmed under Anders' hands, casting him a needy, wanton look, said he knew what the answer to that should be.

The blond gave a low chuckle and raked his nails down Hawke's chest, keeping the pressure around his lover's neck. "You have to ask, pet? You'll come home and I'll be waiting for you in the bedroom with your collar. I'll order you to strip for me and put on the gift I've bought you: a pair of lovely black heels. Your legs would look gorgeous in them, pet, especially when I have you braced against the wall with your feet apart, ass in the air for me." Anders rocked his hips against Hawke's thigh, lips tracing along his bearded jaw.

"Shit, you're gonna use that against me, aren't you?" Hawke's voice was rough, melting under the slow assault of Anders' body. "I told you, it was just an impulse - " The hand tightened on his throat briefly, and he cut off with a choked cry, staring up at Anders' confident grin, keenly conscious of how hard he was inside his constricting jeans. "Why won't you just fuck me?" he pleaded, breathy and ragged.

"It's a delicious impulse, and I'll fuck you when you're _ready_ for it," Anders hissed. "You don't want me to continue the story, pet? You don't want to know how I'd spank your perfect ass until it turned scarlet? I wouldn't be able to resist with your hips arched so prettily. Maybe I'd use a riding crop instead, it gives such a lovely sting. I'd drag it along your cock while you trembled against the wall, waiting to see when I'd strike again." He brushed his lips against Hawke's, catching his lover's desperate moan, dropping his hand to rub Hawke's stiff arousal through his jeans.

Hawke nearly arched off the couch, the rough fabric dragging harshly against his skin, even through his boxers. "Maker, I'd scream for you if you hit it with the crop," he panted, writhing, trying greedily for more contact. "You like to hear me scream. I want to try, please, and I'm wearing too many fucking _clothes_."

The blond leaned back and swiftly yanked Hawke's shirt off with a growl, paying no mind to the rosary getting flung off with it, and bent to capture his lover's mouth hungrily. He pulled the man’s jeans and boxers down roughly until Hawke could shimmy out of them, his fingers groping frantically at the hem of Anders' shirt, tugging until the kiss broke and he could fling that aside as well. Hawke whined when Anders had to pull away to get rid of his own trousers, eagerly arching up to feel the heat of his skin.

Anders' nails dragged along Hawke's sides, gripping his hips to drag him closer, ignoring the desperate erection bobbing in front of him. His mouth latched onto Hawke's neck, sucking and biting a sharp bruise, murmuring more dark fantasies against Hawke's skin while the brunet moaned wantonly. "Your poor cock would be so hard from all the torment I've put you through, I bet I could make you come from it if I whipped you just right. Just a slap under the head, and you'd shake and spurt all over the floor."

" _Yes_ , fuck," Hawke groaned, grabbing Anders' shoulders to pull him closer, bare flesh hot and satisfying against his own. He thrust up, rubbing against his lover's stomach, the slick friction not nearly enough, and whined, "Please, inside me, I need you to fuck me, sir, please."

"So impatient, pet," Anders tutted. He shifted away, putting just enough distance between them that Hawke couldn't grind against him, smirking at the desperate whimper that fell from his lover's lips. "I thought you loved it when I was _cruel_."

Hawke growled, frustrated by the sudden denial, and decided he wasn't willing to wait any more. He sat up quickly, grabbing Anders’ shoulders and flipping them over until he straddled the blond's lap, grinning down at his surprised face. With one hand braced on Anders' bare chest, he dug in the couch cushions with the other for the lube he had started stashing there several weeks ago.

"This is your fault, you know," Hawke said, licking his lips eagerly as he popped the bottle open one-handed and hurriedly spread it on Anders' bare cock. "Bringing up that filthy list, having us talk about all the dirty, secret things that turn us on, look what you've done to me - I just want you _now_ , I don't care how." He gripped his lover's length and positioned it at his entrance, baring his teeth as he pressed down.

Surprise turned into worry for Hawke's safety, but underneath that Anders was aching at the thought of being inside his lover without a condom; they'd had new tests run recently, just to be sure, and discussed the possibility, but... "Fuck, love, wait, don't hurt yourself," Anders managed, but then the head of his cock breached Hawke's hole, his lover arching his back and crying out in pleasure, and Anders' fingers gripped Hawke's hips as he was slowly swallowed into dizzyingly tight heat. "Shit, Hawke, I know we talked about this, but _Maker,_ " he groaned.

For a moment, all Hawke could think about was skin and ache and sharp pleasure, Anders finally inside him, just the way he needed. He took a moment to catch his breath and let the immediate burn fade, and then he was rolling his hips in little increments, working his way down, almost choking on the incomparable sense of _full_. "We fuck all the time," he managed, around the raw little whimpers that slipped out. "I can take it, I needed this so bad, tell me it feels as amazing to you."

Anders' breathing was already ragged from the feel of Hawke tight around him, eyes flickering between the sight of his cock slipping inside his lover and Hawke's face twisting in pleasure. "Maker, yes, you're gorgeous, you feel so fucking good," he groaned, forcing himself to stay still and let Hawke slowly take his cock deeper.

With a little shiver at the praise, Hawke bent forward, pressing his hands into Anders' chest. He hadn't realized his eyes had fallen shut, and he opened them to fixate on the blond's face as their hips finally met, licking his lips unconsciously at the hungry expression he found there. It had been a while since simply having a cock inside him had felt like so much, and Hawke took a shuddering breath as he sat up, clenching down just to see if Anders would make a noise for him.

A gasp escaped Anders’ lips as Hawke shifted, and he let out a soft moan as Hawke squeezed around his cock. He gripped his lover's hips tightly, thrusting up, urging Hawke to move. "Come on, pet, let me see how much you want me."

Too wound up to argue, Hawke started out carefully, testing his limits, but the spark of ecstasy that sizzled his nerves as he moved didn't want him to be careful at all. He rose up slowly, until Anders almost slipped out, and then thrust down hard, groaning as his nails curled into the blond's stomach. Smiling shakily, Hawke nearly laughed as he remembered, "You want me to pierce my dick?"

Anders grinned, dragging his nails up and down Hawke's thighs as his lover rode him, rocking up to meet Hawke's movements. "I wouldn't ask you to do it for me, just suggesting the fun we could have with it," he panted, "Clip a leash to it and lead you around by your dick, trace it with my tongue... and I _know_ it would feel wonderful inside me."

Hawke cursed harshly, the imagery and the sharp sting of Anders' nails turning his thrusts ragged and needy. "Harder," he demanded, flexing his thighs into the touch. "Fuck, the things you say. You could chain it to the floor and make me strain to sit up far enough to reach your cock, or... hook it to my nipple rings, like you said... Maker, harder, _please_ , sir."

Raw, red lines followed Anders' nails as they dug into Hawke's skin, up his thighs and down his chest and stomach, skirting around his arousal, groaning as Hawke tightened around him and let out a delicious whimper. "You look so good riding me, pet, I bet you’re close, aren't you? You're so wound up, already dripping," he growled, voice harsh as he jerked his hips up. "What if I slapped your cock? Scraped my nails over it? I bet you’d scream for me."

Just the _thought_ , on top of all the other filthy, delicious things he'd been imagining throughout the evening, had Hawke keening, and at another sharp thrust, Anders' nails raking sweet pain into his flesh, Hawke came before he could think to ask permission. He curled forward, a harsh sound of pleasure torn from his throat, eyes clenched helplessly tight as his cock spasmed untouched and his thighs shook.

As the haze cleared, Hawke became aware that Anders had stilled his movements, and realized what he'd done. His eyes flew wide, fixing on Anders' face below him, and his cheeks flushed with shame. "I'm sorry," he pleaded quickly, heart racing from disobeying so thoroughly. "I'm sorry, I didn't know that would..."

The words were cut off by Anders' hand wrapping around Hawke's throat, gripping tightly enough to make Hawke's spent cock twitch, cum staining both of their stomachs. "Don't give me excuses, pet, it's been _months_ and you still can't control yourself?" he chided. "You're lucky I'm too worked up over how fucking hot that was, coming so hard on my cock at the thought of me smacking you around. Get on your knees and bend over the coffee table so I can fuck you raw."

He released Hawke's throat, his lover whimpering as he lifted off Anders' cock and obeyed, kneeling on the floor. The blond was behind him in seconds, pulling Hawke's arms behind his back and pressing down on his wrists with one hand, nudging Hawke's legs apart roughly and sliding inside him again in one smooth thrust. "Naughty boy, can't even remember the simplest rule I give you," Anders snarled, striking Hawke's ass with his palm hard enough to leave the imprint of his fingers.

Hawke jerked and cried out, still a little dazed from his orgasm, covered and filled and _used_ so perfectly he had no urge to protest. His thoughts dissolved into a litany of _yes_ as Anders fucked him hard, tightening convulsively every time the blond slapped his ass again, the table underneath him creaking with the rhythm of Anders’ insistent thrusts. Distantly, Hawke realized his cock was stiff again, had never really gone down, but all that mattered was the way Anders pinned him and scolded him, staking his claim, proving ownership.

"That's it, good boy," Anders groaned, his thrusts getting faster and deeper, timed with smacks against Hawke's ass and nails dragging over the sensitive, bruising skin, other hand still restraining Hawke's hands as the man writhed and whimpered. "You take it so well, stretched so lovely around my cock, making such pretty noises for me. Fuck, I want you to take more, take _everything,_ slide my fingers in with my cock, stretch you so full, you'd look _gorgeous_ wrapped around my wrist and screaming, pet."

That image dragged the first word out of Hawke's lips since he'd apologized for coming; he arched back, spreading his legs further, and whimpered, "Please." Please yes, please more, please never stop, but all he could say was, "please," taking everything Anders gave him and imagining more.

The table protested as Anders pounded into Hawke hard, digging his nails into flesh, panting with exertion. It took only moments for Anders to finally lose control and cry out raggedly in pleasure, slamming his hips against Hawke’s ass, savouring the knowledge that he could finally claim his lover by coming inside him. He fell forward, breathing hard as he pressed against Hawke's back - and the table finally cracked from the abuse, both of them toppling to the ground as the furniture gave out beneath them.

For a moment, they were both merely stunned, panting on top of the wreckage of the coffee table, and then Hawke burst out laughing, as Anders started to sit up behind him, cursing quietly. The laughter became a little moan as Anders eased out of him, and Hawke turned over to ensure their bodies stayed close, tucking himself into the side of the couch and shaking his head at the blond's guilty expression.

"It doesn't matter," Hawke said, sighing as Anders' arms came around him automatically. Hawke nuzzled into his lover's neck, soft and compliant despite his still-hard dick. "We'll get a new one. Whatever you like."

"Maybe something sturdier? Maker, I can't believe _that_ was the first thing we broke," Anders said wryly. "Though that's hardly the goal. I don't want furniture ruined, just you." The press of Hawke's cock against his thigh drew his attention, and he raised an eyebrow. "Greedy boy, you can't get enough, can you?"

Hawke shook his head, pressing their bodies closer and mouthing aimlessly at Anders' skin between lazy words. "Not important. You were punishing me, you can leave it." His ass hurt and his thighs stung - he was probably bleeding at least a little bit - and he was still floating, only really conscious of the tightening of Anders' arms around him.

Anders pulled Hawke down to the carpet with him, tangling their legs closely together with a relaxed sigh. After making sure they’d avoided the snapped table, he smirked. "I think the list was a success, don't you?"


	3. Handers 3:1 - Delicate Deconstruction

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was co-written between Mevima and [Athos](http://archiveofourown.org/users/athos), in a back-and-forth on Tumblr, which was incredible fun, and also why this is formatted a bit differently from normal. Completely PWP, pain and BDSM and all that you'd expect from our boys.

Hawke loves the little challenges. If he wins, then he wins, and gets a reward; if he loses, he gets punished, which is also a reward. Right now, the challenge Anders whispers in his ear is, "Don't. Move." And he's holding a white feather. It’s a foot long, nothing special or even fluffy, just a boring old feather, and Hawke nearly rolls his eyes. What could Anders possibly do with a feather? He's not _that_ ticklish.

He should have heeded the mischievous glint in his lover’s eyes.

It’s not so much the touch, at first, as it is the surprise; Anders is always moving around him, and while he wasn’t told to close his eyes he can’t turn his head. The feather strokes his sides, and Hawke doesn’t move, though it feels lovely. In front now, and Anders trails it across his neck, a whisper of a threat that reminds him of being pinned against the wall by his throat. Anders meets Hawke’s eyes, smirks knowingly, and Hawke flushes.

Anders circles, making him dizzy with the light touches, the brushes of sensation that make it harder and harder to remember that Hawke is not supposed to lean into them, not supposed to lean his head back and savour the touch, not supposed to spread his legs wider. He sinks into the sensation, his eyes closing, and then for the first time the tip of the feather trails up his _cock_ and he gasps, moving in all the ways that are forbidden. When Hawke opens his eyes to look at his lover, Anders has a playful smirk covered by a stern look. “Naughty boy.”

Hawke tries to look contrite, but his snicker sabotages it.  Anders’ smirk fades and his expression shifts from “oh, aren’t you cute” to “oh, you’re going to regret that.” He surges closer, crowding Hawke, who swallows reflexively.

“Didn’t I tell you,” Anders says softly, pointedly, “not to move?”

Hawke can’t reply, his arousal sharpened by the thrill of fear skittering up his spine.

“Look at me.” Hawke obeys. He feels Anders’ hands moving near his chest, the brush of the feather against his skin when -

“Fuck!” Something sharp and hard digs into his left nipple and he can’t help it; he curls his chest away from the unexpected pain. For a moment, he doesn’t understand; Anders was only using a feather, and feathers are soft, gentle.

Then the sharp point is under his chin, urging him to raise his head and meet Anders’ gaze again. His lover’s eyes are intense, a triumphant smile stretched across his lips. The blond removes the object from beneath Hawke’s chin and he can breathe again, while Anders raises the feather into his line of sight - not the friendly, ticklish end, but the quill, stiff and cut to a point.

“Oh, pet,” Anders croons, scraping the point of the quill lightly down Hawke’s cheek, and grinning fiercely at his helpless shudder. “You really thought it’d be that simple?”

The point drags a line over his collarbone, next, and Hawke flinches, the scrape still intense after so much _delicate_ , so Anders grabs his hair. “Rules haven’t changed, brat. Don’t move.”

He settles on the mattress behind Hawke, and draws long lines down his back; Hawke is certain - thinks he’s certain - they aren’t breaking skin, but each one hurts in a lovely way and he shudders, trying hard to be obedient. Then a hot mouth seals over the skin of his shoulder, turning those lines to fire, and Hawke cries out, tightening all his muscles to restrain the reflexive flinch, hoping it’s enough and fearing it isn’t.

When Anders stops suckling a harsh mark into his skin, Hawke is panting, but Anders hums happily. “Good boy. You did so much better this time.” He slides off the bed and comes around to face his lover again, tapping the feather against his lip. “Where shall I write that into your skin, I wonder?”

Hawke just whines, eyes pleading.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Anders muses. “My name on you. _Marking_ you.” He trails the soft end of the feather down Hawke’s heaving chest, tickling over his chest hair. Light reflecting off the string of precum dripping from Hawke’s cock catches his eye, and he laughs, running the soft end of the feather from Hawke’s balls up his shaft to catch the liquid on the vane.

The moisture is smeared over Hawke’s parted lips as Anders murmurs, “You love this. The anticipation. Wondering what I’ll do.” Anders raises the feather, making sure Hawke sees it, and lowers it again. When Hawke’s gaze lowers with it, he snaps the fingers of his free hand, drawing the man’s attention. “Look at me.”

Hawke obeys, but as soon as Anders said _anticipation_ it was all he could think of. He licks his lips reflexively and can’t stifle a moan at the taste of his own arousal, very aware that the feather is somewhere low, out of his line of sight. He’s sure it’s by his cock, and can feel his pulse throbbing in his balls.

“Poor pet, wondering when and how I’ll touch you again. Wondering if I’m going to soothe you…” Anders smoothly strokes the soft vane over the top of Hawke’s length, “…or hurt you.”

Hawke tries to brace himself ( _don’t move, don’t move_ ) for the pain he knows is coming, but … it doesn’t. Just the soft feather petting his needy cock.

“Beg for it.”

If he hadn’t been caught up in words and sensation, Hawke would have said, _make me_ , but he’s lost, eager to be good, eager to endure whatever Anders wants to give him. Half his attention is already taken up by not lifting his hips into that barely-there touch. He stares at Anders’ face, the way the blond is focused tightly on him, idly stimulating sensitive flesh as he waits for his pet to obey.

“Please hurt me,” Hawke breathes, and there’s a flicker of satisfied amusement in Anders’ face. “Scratch me up, sir, beat me, I need you to make me scream for you.”

He knows he begs prettily, Anders has told him often enough, and he’s rewarded by movement in the corner of his eye as Anders steps forward, and then a bright line of pain down his chest that draws an incoherent noise. “Please,” Hawke can’t help panting again, and then he can’t _think_ , the fire is everywhere, one piece of himself peeled away at a time.

Hawke isn’t holding still any more, but Anders doesn’t mind, not with his beautiful pet begging and crying out and _shrieking_ when he hits a sensitive spot, Hawke’s cock staying hard and flushed, dripping with need. By the time Anders moves back again, all that gorgeous dusky skin is covered in red lines, shoulders to thighs, and his stomach clenches with lust when he hears Hawke’s sob at the loss.

Anders shoves his lover back on the bed, and he falls with his lower legs still folded under him, just barely flexible enough for the stretch to be comfortable. Hawke still writhes weakly, and Anders presses the sharp point of the quill under his sternum, grabbing Hawke’s attention, forcing him to stillness, soft whimpers punctuating each exhalation.

Anders _loves_ Hawke like this: stretched, marked up, hurting and pleading, submitting to _anything_ he desires. It’s fucking breathtaking. “Mine,” he growls.

“Yes,” Hawke pants, and his voice breaks. “Yes, please, sir, more.”

Anders kneels on the bed between Hawke’s spread thighs, which tremble both with the strain of the position and with accumulated anticipation and need. “Hands above your head,” Anders directs. “I’m going to suck you off, I’m going to carve my name into you, and you’re not going to move. Do you understand?”

Hawke whimpers; Maker, it’s all he can do. But his whimper is not enough and he shouts when Anders leans forward, clothed groin pressing into his aching flesh, the quill against his throat. A slow scratch under his jawbone and he sobs, “Yes! I understand, I’ll be good, just please, _please_!”

With no idea how he’s going to keep in place as Anders demands, Hawke grips his own wrists above his head. The stretch makes every scratch along his body flare up, and he sucks in a harsh breath. Then his lover’s mouth is wrapped around his cock, searing ecstasy after all the pleasure-soaked pain, and Hawke sobs again, chest heaving but the rest of him obediently _still_ , magnifying every sensation with the effort of it.

The overwhelming heat is gone all too quickly, and Hawke pants when Anders pulls back, pressing the point of the quill against an unmarked patch of his inner thigh. He whimpers, anticipation burning, and then the first line is raked into his skin and he howls, every muscle tensing so as not to _move_ , please, he’s so close and it’s so much; he can’t tell if the trickle of liquid down his thigh is sweat or blood, and stops caring when Anders’ mouth latches sweetly onto his cock again.

It’s not blood - Anders carefully hasn’t broken skin this whole time - but the way Hawke reacts it may as well be, and the next line is drawn with the head of his cock still engulfed in the blond’s mouth, simply to see what Hawke would do with the sensation.

Anders isn’t disappointed; Hawke keens, breath hitching beautifully, and he begs in broken little whimpers. When Anders listens carefully, he realizes Hawke is begging not to come before Anders finishes the lines, and he _growls_ with the possessive, proud heat that fills him at that, digging his nails into Hawke’s thighs in reward.

Hawke has wondered, in the past, if he might ever become inured to Anders’ magic, ever become _used to_ what his lover does to him. If it’s possible, it hasn’t happened yet, because Hawke feels more desperate than ever - desperate to come, desperate not to come yet, desperate to please. He doesn’t know what he’s saying, but he hears a hoarse voice and knows it’s his own, and the pleas turn to grateful sobs when Anders clamps his hand in a vice-like grip around his cock and balls, and it’s terrible and wonderful. He wants to come so badly, his sweat burning, stinging the hundreds of marks Anders has made but Hawke wants, beyond reason, for Anders to mark him more, to score into his flesh a sign that he is Anders’ alone.

A tear trickles past his temple and creeps into his hair, forgotten when Anders takes his cock into his mouth again, hot and wet and wicked; he moans sharply when Anders begins writing again, stroke after stroke digging in, his taut skin catching on the curve of a letter, his lover licking and sucking mercilessly the whole time. Through a roaring in his ears he hears Anders say, “Now, pet,” and the constriction around his cock vanishes, hard pressure on his aching cock mixing inseparably with a final slash through his skin, until the pain and ecstasy radiate through him, throbbing outward, everywhere. Hawke comes agonizingly hard, clawing a scream from his throat, and he’s arching his back, fisting the sheets, muscles tense and shaking and perfect.

When he finally relaxes, collapsing from his strained position onto his side, Hawke is trembling everywhere, weeping with relief and release. He doesn’t notice that Anders has allowed him to come all over his chest until the man is rubbing his cum cruelly into the myriad of abrasions, making him cry out.

Watching Hawke’s hazy expression contort as Anders inflicts one final torment makes the blond feel, of all things, protective. He doesn’t feel the need to come this time; bringing his lover through pain and bliss and out the other side is a form of satisfaction all its own, and after Hawke has subsided into whimpers again, Anders wraps him in his arms, providing the comfort his lover always needs.

It’s uncomfortable, he can tell, as Hawke writhes a little and winces at the sting, but then he relaxes, sighing into Anders’ shoulder, as if the tight embrace were home.

Hawke, meanwhile, is floating nowhere, agony and ecstasy and release turning him into a blur of sensations that only mean _Anders_. He doesn’t care that they’ll have to clean up soon, or that the shower will sting like the Void, just that Anders is murmuring sweet praise into his hair and he has been good, tonight, beaten and tamed and brought down safe.


	4. Handers 4:1 - Make Me an Instrument of Your Peace

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title comes from the Catholic Prayer of St. Francis.

Hawke had never actually seen a riding crop before. Not in person, anyway. When it arrived in the mail, it turned out to be a long, whippy, wrapped stick, with a little leather tab at the end that he couldn’t imagine would hurt very much.

Naturally, he had to use it on Anders first.

The yelp Hawke got, when he snuck through the kitchen and smacked Anders’ clothed ass, was quite gratifying. The narrowed eyes the blond turned on him, though, made him swallow nervously. “Maker’s sake, what do you think you’re doing?”

“You said I could try anything on you first!” Despite Anders’ foreboding expression, Hawke grinned gleefully.

It took a valiant effort for Anders not to laugh at Hawke’s pleasure. He carefully schooled his expression to sternness, and held out his hand. “That was your _one shot_ , brat. Give me that.” Hawke reluctantly handed the crop over, biting his lip. “Don’t you have anything you ought to be doing right now?” Anders asked, raising his eyebrows, still playing at severity. “Some paperwork you mentioned being overdue this morning?”

As Hawke sulked out of the kitchen, Anders admired his bare ass, tapping the crop against his palm, grinning to himself at the gorgeous way his lover’s muscles flexed, the dusky, umber brown skin covered by black hair. He imagined marking it up, and began building plans for the day.

Just because the paperwork was necessary didn’t mean Hawke wanted to do it. He paid his investment banker quite a bit to deal with most of this, but it was still his money, and he had to review and sign off on the major transactions.

Anders was _not helping_. Oh, he’d left him alone while Hawke fetched the forms and sat down at his desk, and then the blond had made his presence subtly known, settling at his own desk across the room and watching Hawke work, playing idly with the crop. It was maddeningly distracting, and Anders knew it, his face too innocent whenever Hawke cast him an accusing glance.

Just as Hawke was scrawling a signature across the bottom of one of the many pages, Anders leaned forward, tapping one bare shoulder with the leather, and murmured, “Finish up and you can suck my cock.”

The pen skewed wildly to the side, and Hawke jerked upright, a betrayed expression on his face. “That’s not helping me concentrate!”

Chuckling, Anders stood and left for the bedroom, calling out, “You don’t want me to start without you, do you?”

Hawke hardly noticed his pen clattering to the desk as he scrambled out of his chair and after Anders. “That’s not _fair_!”

“Fair?” Anders rounded on him, landing a solid smack on his arm. “You greedy thing, when has fair ever come into this? Finish your chores first.”

Hawke switched tactics, dropping to his knees and grabbing Anders’ hand to kiss his knuckles. “You can’t tease me like that and then expect me to fill everything out properly. It’ll just be ruined now,” he pleaded, though he winced when it came out more like a whine.

Fingers gripped his hair, and Hawke yelped in protest as Anders forced him back into the office. “I’ve been too lenient with you, if you think you can just beg and get exactly what you want. Do I have to stand over you like a schoolmaster, slapping your knuckles to make you work?”

With his hair tangled in Anders’ fist and his face flushed, stumbling back to the desk under Anders’ control, Hawke looked back at his lover and grinned, utterly unrepentant. “Is that supposed to be a threat?”

He was rewarded for his impertinence with Anders shoving him forward, over the desk. Hawke had barely caught himself on his hands when a palm landed between his shoulderblades, pressing him down, and the crop impacted his thighs, taking his breath away with the sting - fuck, it _did_ work well - but Anders stopped at only a few, leaving him wanting. “Disobedient brat.” Hawke thought Anders sounded a bit more amused than stern, and he arched his back, trying to look tempting. “ _Sit_ , and finish, or I won’t touch you for the rest of the night.”

The thought of sitting down and filling out paperwork was nearly unbearable; Hawke’s skin itched with the need to be hit again. “Please, just a little more.”

“Save your begging for later, when you’ll need it.” Still, Anders’ hand rested on his back, and Hawke moved subtly under it, _desperate_.

“Please.” Hawke dropped his head, hands clenching on the desk. “I need it. I need you, _hurt me_ , sir, and I’ll do my work, I promise.”

“Are you saying that didn’t hurt?” Anders swung the crop again, hitting Hawke’s thigh, and smiled at the small cry it drew. “Why would I ever give you a reward _before_ you complete a task? That’s not how this works, pet.”

The blond watched as Hawke arched under his hand, nearly panting already, and marvelled at how quickly his lover submitted when he was pushed properly. “I can’t concentrate like this, _please_ ,” Hawke whispered, and Anders licked his lips. He was happy to give Hawke a quick taste of what was to come, and his brat had quite earned it with such beautiful begging.

Anders clicked his tongue scoldingly and slid his hand up to grip the back of Hawke’s neck, keeping him pinned down. “You’re lucky I’m feeling generous. Keep your hands on the desk.”

Hawke splayed his fingers across the surface, letting out an eager moan that turned into a shout as the crop impacted his ass in a harsh rhythm, each sting biting sharply, the pain rising quickly as the blond whipped the back of his thighs and calves, with only brief pauses where he gasped for air and writhed under the man’s firm grip. It was so different from the flat of Anders’ palm, the pain quick and precise, and he forced himself to obey, _needing_ to be good for Anders’ reward; Hawke didn’t realize he was howling with it until Anders stopped and the sound died on his lips.

The leather tip of the crop traced up Hawke’s abused skin as Anders looked over the rising welts with a pleased hum, and the brunet shuddered under it. He let the tip slide between Hawke’s cheeks tauntingly. “Are you going to finish your chores now?”

Hawke nodded, arching back against the touch, still moving subtly into the sharp ache across his skin as the haze of being beaten settled like a calm blanket over his mind. “Yes,” he groaned, and when Anders’ nails bit into his neck, he added, “Thank you, sir.”

“Good boy.” Anders released him, smirking at Hawke’s wince when he sank down onto his chair. He tapped the crop against the desk to get Hawke’s attention. “Come into the living room when you’re done.”

“Yes, sir.” Hawke’s body hummed with endorphins, and he smiled dizzily up at his lover. Anders chuckled as he shut the office door behind him, leaving Hawke too buzzed and relaxed from the whipping to be curious about what he had planned. The lovely marks stung when Hawke wiggled in his seat, and he finished his paperwork in an easy daze.

* * *

The sight that greeted Hawke when he emerged from their office made him shiver; Anders had put on his cassock, collar and boots, and looked the very picture of priestly authority, resting casually in his armchair. At the sound of the door, Anders snapped his book shut and looked up, a tiny smile of approval on his lips as he looked over his naked pet, and then gestured for Hawke to approach and sit at his feet.

The crop tapped Hawke’s chin as he knelt, tilting his head up until he met Anders’ gaze, the leather tab staying in place as a reminder to keep his head still. “You’re so eager for violence, my child. Begging me to beat you.” He tutted, and Hawke swallowed. “It’s a good thing I’m here, and willing to punish your wicked thoughts.”

The crop trailed down Hawke’s neck, stroking his body, and the brunet slowly relaxed his stiff posture as Anders stretched the moment out, just petting him. Then Anders snapped the crop down on his thigh sharply to grab Hawke’s attention, and said, “Recite one ‘Our Maker’ for me.”

Hawke blinked. “One, Father?” He couldn’t help the incredulous laugh at that. One recitation was nothing.

“Yes, one.” Anders seemed unperturbed, but raised an eyebrow at his lover’s expression. “You owe prayers to the Maker for your sins, my son. I’m going to make sure you recite your prayers _correctly_. So if you think that will be so easy, why haven’t you started yet?”

The blond seemed so certain of himself, Hawke had to swallow nervously. He obediently folded his hands in his lap.

“Our Maker who art in heaven, hallowed be thy - _fuck_!” He jerked in surprise at the slice of pain as the crop hit him on the thigh, and stared up at Anders’ placid expression. “Seriously?”

“Properly,” Anders reminded him, darkly amused. “Start over.”

Hawke was more cautious when he started this time, eyeing Anders suspiciously. The crop trailed over his skin as he spoke softly, a gentle, pleasant touch, until Anders slapped his arm hard, and Hawke couldn’t help the gasp, even knowing it was coming. Without Anders having to ask, he started the prayer over from the beginning, and was rewarded with a pleased smile and the caress of the crop over his cheek.

As Hawke got better at reciting, absorbing the impacts without breaking up the prayer, Anders hit him harder, faster, in more sensitive places. It became a game, to see which could best the other, until Anders stood as Hawke again returned to the beginning, walked around behind him and said, “Spread your legs.”

Skin stinging from countless swats, Hawke still found it in him to say, “You’re joking,” peering over his shoulder to try and see Anders’ expression.

The crop came down viciously on his shoulder, and he hissed. “Bend forward, spread your legs, and _start over_ ,” Anders ordered, giving weight to each word.

Hawke bent forward, leaning on his arms, trying not to look back to see how Anders would be tormenting him next. This time, he grit his teeth through the sting across his ass and got as far as, “lead us not into temptation” before the head trailed across his balls and his voice faltered, shivering in desire at the thought of what that crop could do to him. Anders whipped his inner thigh, and a gasp escaped his lips.

“Again.” Anders sounded amused, tapping the leather lightly against Hawke’s perineum. Hawke cursed and tried arching back towards the sensation, but Anders pressed his boot against the brunet’s whipped ass, leaning his weight in until Hawke whimpered. “ _Again_ , my child.”

Hawke took a ragged breath and hung his head, willing himself to concentrate enough to recite the prayer, knowing it would be even worse now with the boot digging into his skin. The words finally came, his insolence fallen to the wayside in the wake of his overwhelming desire to please his lover. “Our Maker who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. Thy gaze return, thy light shall burn, on earth as it does in heaven.”

Anders struck the backs of his thighs again, the delicious sting making his cock twitch, but he held strong. _Be good, please let me be good._ “Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us…” The crop slid between his cheeks and across his lower back, swatting at the base of his spine, and he flinched but didn’t crack. “...and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil. For thine is the City…” A hard strike on his other thigh, close to his balls, “...and the power, and the glory…” Again and again, punctuating his words, and his nails dug into his palms, surely leaving marks, “...for ever and ever. Amen.”

The last word was little more than a breathless moan as the head of the crop slid over his spread ass, and for a delirious moment he wondered if Anders would whip across his hole, but his lover only lifted his boot, removing his weight, and Hawke whimpered.

“Good boy,” Anders purred. “You did so well for me.” The sight of Hawke relaxing into the praise was lovely, and the blond trailed the crop lower between Hawke’s legs, stroking the leather along the length of his flushed cock, licking his lips at the shudder that provoked. “Sit back on your knees, hands behind your back.”

Wiping the sweat from his brow, Hawke obeyed, wincing only slightly as his skin pulled against the welts, looking up at Anders in a beatific daze. His cock ached between his spread thighs, the need just another layer of glorious sensation.

Golden eyes trailed across his form appreciatively, Anders giving a pleased hum as he lightly, randomly tapped the crop against his skin. The leather tab dragging over a nipple ring broke Hawke’s silence, a moan that might have been Anders’ name, words barely held back. “I think you’ve earned an indulgence, my son. What shall I give you?”

Swallowing, Hawke shifted a little, managed to spread his legs more. “Please?” he whispered, as the crop brushed down his chest, teased his thighs. Fingers caressed his cheek, hot with embarrassment and need, and he pressed a kiss to Anders’ palm. “Please, Father.”

After what seemed like ages, the blond let the crop touch Hawke’s cock, leather tapping lightly, delicately; Anders let Hawke squirm against it, watching his pet’s arousal twitch. Of course Anders knew what Hawke was asking for, but he wanted the man to make himself say it, to be perfectly clear, and it certainly wasn’t a trial getting to watch Hawke struggle with his embarrassment in the meantime. “Say the words,” Anders said gently. He was just as eager to see Hawke scream and shake under his hand, but in this, he needed confirmation first.

Mouth working soundlessly for a few moments, face flushed impossibly redder, Hawke ducked his head and finally let himself beg quietly, “Please whip my cock, Father.”

“Lovely boy,” Anders sighed fondly, trailing his thumb over Hawke’s lips before pulling away, moving to the side. He watched the lines of Hawke’s body tense in delicious anticipation, drawing it out for a moment, and then simply tapped the crop against the man’s cock. Hawke took a shuddering breath, and then relaxed visibly, and Anders continued tapping, getting him used to the sensation.

When Hawke’s eyes eventually reopened to look at him, they were hazy with pleasure, and Anders smiled fondly, lined up carefully, and whipped the crop across the underside of Hawke’s cock. The brunet bent over himself, gasping, and Anders waited patiently until Hawke met his gaze again, eyes dark and hungry, a sharp echo of the first time he’d slapped his lover’s face.

“ _Please,_ ” Hawke groaned, and Anders made an approving noise and struck once more.

The burst of pain at each blow, interspersed with gentle, teasing taps across his exposed skin, left Hawke whining, writhing, unable to think. Soon enough, he was arching back, spreading his legs as wide as he could and bracing himself on the floor behind him, keeping himself purposely exposed to the crop.

It was lovely how Hawke sank into the torment, eyes squeezed shut, the moans falling from his lips turning into cries of pleasure despite each flinch of pain that flickered across his features. Anders grabbed Hawke’s shoulder and pressed him to the ground roughly, his lover’s legs sprawling out wide as Anders knelt beside him and shifted his grip to clap his hand over Hawke’s mouth. “You’re being such a good boy,” Anders adjusted the crop to account for their closeness, holding it up in front of Hawke’s wide eyes. “Do you want more?”

Hawke nodded frantically, lost in the exquisite agony, clutching at Anders’ arm desperately just to have something to hold onto as the blows resumed, faster this time, without the teasing gentleness. Anders’ hand muffled his howls and he tried _so hard_ to hold still for each strike, but he couldn’t seem to stop writhing under the pain and the heat of Anders’ gaze as it darted between his face and his straining cock. It was too much and just enough to keep the pleasure building higher and higher until - oh, _fuck_ \- his eyes widened, wet and pleading, as his thighs tensed and he realized he might actually come from this alone.

Finally, Anders relented, giving Hawke a moment of peace, tracing his thumb over the man’s lips as his chest heaved in whimpers and moans, his muscles taut and shaking with tension. “You take it so well, pet, letting me whip your cock like this. You love it when I hurt you, don’t you?” 

Hawke nodded, blinking away tears, fingers digging into Anders’ sleeve, shuddering as the leather bit of the crop trailed up his raw, sensitive cock. He turned his gaze to look down at himself, watching as the crop pulled away coated in precum; Anders’ pleased noise had his hips arching unconsciously. “Will you come for me if I keep hitting you?” the blond asked coyly, eyes dark as they raked over Hawke’s body.

More whimpers silenced as Anders’ hand pressed firmly over his mouth again after Hawke’s nod, and the brunet stared at him pleadingly, unable to speak even if Anders let him - he could feel it, so close, need throbbing under his skin. He lapped desperately at Anders’ palm and spread his legs obscenely wider, offering himself to his lover, anything Anders wanted, praying for release.

Anders smiled, so hard under his robes that he ached, savouring Hawke’s reactions and muffled cries, and how well the man responded to the pain he inflicted, writhing and panting for more. His voice was a silky purr as he bent close to Hawke’s ear, lips brushing the curve of it. “I give you permission to come, pet, and I won’t stop until you spill all over yourself.”

Then the crop struck Hawke’s cock again, over and over, a bare pause between each steady strike to let the pain morph into delirious pleasure, and Hawke had no choice but to let it utterly overtake him. His hips lifted off the floor towards each blow, head thrown back as incoherent pleas fell against Anders’ controlling hand, fingers clenching hard on Anders’ arm, _too much it hurts so good don’t stop please_ and then one more harsh burst of overwhelming sensation had Hawke shattering, shaking, _screaming_ , muscles locking up as his spine bowed and his cock throbbed, pulsing wet over his stomach and up his chest.

Anders stared at Hawke’s trembling form, overcome with pride and lust and love at the gorgeous way Hawke responded to everything he was given. He removed his hand from Hawke’s mouth to let him gasp and pant, and tossed away the crop with a quiet curse. “ _Fuck_ , you have no idea how lovely you are when you lose control for me.” Briefly, he brushed his hand over Hawke’s sweat-soaked forehead, his lover nuzzling into the contact, then pulled away to hastily dig into the couch cushions for their hidden lube, making soothing noises at Hawke’s needy whine.

Hawke dazedly let Anders drag him into position, wincing as his abused flesh rubbed against the carpet, and spread his thighs with a whimper when Anders nudged them apart and knelt, pulling his robes open and his cock out. “Please,” Hawke rasped, but shook his head when the blond paused, thinking he was going to protest. “Please Father… I need you _now_ , fuck me hard.”

“Oh, _yes_ ,” Anders growled, slicking his length and bracing a hand behind Hawke’s knee to spread him wide as he eased into the tight clench of his lover’s body. Hawke cried out, tossing his head as Anders fucked into him harshly, so perfectly rough, claiming every inch of him.

“So good for me,” the blond moaned, tightening his grip on Hawke’s leg, wrapping his still-slick hand around Hawke’s abused cock and gritting his teeth at the liquid rush of pleasure when his pet cried out roughly. “Does this hurt?” Anders panted, and Hawke could only nod his head, tearing up. “Do you want me to stop?” Hawke shook his head just as emphatically, hands splayed out loosely on the floor, writhing as Anders fisted his cock, and _Maker_ it was agony but he still wanted it, wanted to shudder and writhe, overstimulated and broken under Anders’ will, all for his lover’s pleasure.

Beautiful, tortured noises fell from Hawke’s lips as Anders pounded into him hard and fast, so close to the edge already, caught up in Hawke’s beautifully responsive body, covered in sweat and welts and his own cum, and the slick, delicious way the brunet clenched around him whenever he tightened his hand. Anders leaned forward, lapping at the mess across Hawke’s chest, groaning as Hawke whined, “ _Hurts_.”

“Good,” he growled, baring his teeth in a grin, thrusts turning erratic. “You’ll ache for days, with such lovely bruises, pet, you’ll shiver every time you look in the mirror and you’ll _beg_ me to do it again. My gorgeous brat, love making you scream, love the way you come for me, oh fuck, _fuck, yes_ \- “ Anders’ words ended on a choked sound, shuddering forward and bracing himself on Hawke’s chest as he came, and Hawke moaned under him, grinding up purposefully, eager for every last thrust.

It took long moments before either of them were steady enough to stand, Hawke nuzzling into Anders’ hair while Anders pressed gentle kisses to his chest. They eventually rose and showered, Anders cleaning Hawke delicately while his lover leaned weakly against the tile, and then Anders led him to bed to rub soothing aloe into each of the marks left by the crop and gently wrap a cool cloth around his cock.

“I think you broke it,” Hawke groaned, once the blond was tucked against his chest, an open bar of chocolate on the nightstand.

Anders leaned up to kiss his forehead and broke off another piece of the chocolate, Hawke’s lips opening easily to accept it. “You’ll be fine, love. Though we should take things easy for a few days, so you can recover.”

The brunet pouted, eyes plaintive. “A few _days_? With no sex? I’m going to wither and die.”

“I’ve made you go longer before,” Anders said wryly. “Does this mean all of that wasn’t worth doing again?”

Hawke bit his lip, shifting against the ache in his muscles and across his skin, reveling in his sensitivity. “Well, let’s not get hasty,” he muttered; Anders laughed, and Hawke bit his lover’s finger in retaliation.


	5. TotW Chapter 6.5 - Blasphemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anders seeks relief from his desires. Takes place between Chapter 6 and Chapter 7 of the original fic. Written by USY.

Anders tried to remain strong after Hawke’s confession, tried to carry out his duties in the Chantry and the clinic without letting himself succumb to sinful thoughts of the man touching himself in the confessional, but it was nearly impossible, his thoughts returning to it time and again, keeping the memories fresh.

Sorting through the Chantry paperwork was already tedious, but with his wandering thoughts it was almost torture. Anders sat back at his office desk and put his head in his hands, digging his nails into his scalp. It had only been a _day_ since Hawke’s visit and he was already going mad, could hardly think of anything else but the soft sound of skin on skin coming from the confessional booth and Hawke’s plaintive whimper when Anders had denied him release.

Abruptly, Anders pushed back from his desk and stood to pace restlessly. It was late in the evening, but he’d wanted to finish his work before going home, which now seemed impossible. He nudged the prayer cushion in his office away from the wall and knelt down, hoping to find some solace and peace.

Anders slipped the rosary from around his neck and clenched it in his hands, closing his eyes and trying to clear his thoughts, ignoring the pounding in his head and the heat pooling in his stomach. He prayed to the Maker for forgiveness, prayed to Andraste for peace, lips moving silently and breath ghosting across the beads wrapped around his fingers.

_Please, Maker, rid me of these visions, let me not fall to temptation._ He clenched his fingers tighter together, brow furrowing. _Saint Kristoff, help me focus, let me not be distracted by lust, give me the strength to endure._

His mouth was dry, his skin feverish, the prayers doing nothing to stop the memory of Hawke’s teasing words in the confessional. He licked his lips nervously, mind conjuring the image of Hawke kneeling before him as Anders was now, begging for forgiveness, begging for Anders’ touch, kissing Anders’ fingers and licking at the strand of beads across the priest’s knuckles.

Anders bit his lip, shivering at the heat that coursed through him as his resistance faltered; Hawke praying for release, willing to do anything the priest requested of him, begging for penance for his sins, and _oh_ , there would be so many sins for Hawke to atone for, Anders knew it. The arrogant, devious man, brought to heel at Anders’ feet, beautiful and desperate, eyes pleading…

“Fuck,” Anders whimpered, breath shuddering, cock stiff under his robes. And he _knew_ this had gone too far, fantasizing about Hawke in the Chantry itself, defiling this space with his wicked thoughts, but he was exhausted from fighting his desires, restless and aching and worn ragged. He would atone for his own sins later, just as he had when he’d come in the confessional at Hawke’s filthy words just a week prior.

Trembling fingers undid the buttons of his cassock, the rosary forgotten and still wrapped around his left hand as Anders pulled apart his robes. He kept his eyes squeezed shut as he undid his belt, refusing to acknowledge how blasphemous it was to slide his hand under his waistband and grip his aching cock as he knelt in the Maker’s house in prayer. He let out a quiet moan as his hand wrapped around his length, mind still playing the image of Hawke kneeling before him, hands now bound behind his back, watching with dark eyes as Anders stroked himself.

_Please_ , Hawke would say, would _beg_ , and Anders echoed the sentiment in one last whisper of prayer. “Oh Maker, Saint Kristoff, help me, forgive me, please.”

He unfastened his trousers to pull himself out, desperately pushing aside his guilt and the faint thrill of disobedience as his fingers clenched his hard, hot flesh, catching the slickness welling from the head with his thumb and letting out a soft breath of sound as he smeared it across the tip, imagining it was Hawke’s tongue instead.

His hips thrust forward into his tight grip, teeth digging hard into his lip as pleasure overwhelmed him, but his movements were slow; he could go quickly out of shame and get it over with, but in the quiet of the Chantry he felt the need for silence, for the measured pace to mask his all-consuming, desperate lust for Hawke.

Anders’ other hand pulled his undershirt up and pressed the fabric between his teeth to quiet himself, the cold air tightening his skin even with the heat flowing through his body. Fingers trailed across his stomach and he gasped at feeling more than just skin, eyes flying open in surprise as he realized he still had the rosary wrapped around his hand. He shuddered at the sight of his robe spread open and clothes undone, one hand wrapped around himself, the other resting in the light trail of hair under his belly, wooden beads of the rosary stark against his pale skin.

And Maker strike him down for such filth, but it just made him _harder._

Anders’ hand worked faster, noises muffled by his shirt as he teased and pinched his nipples, rosary gliding against his chest, a thrill of sin he let himself indulge in. Settling on his heels, he let his head fall back and gave into his imagination, thinking of all the filthy ways he wanted to take Hawke. He panted and moaned against the wet fabric, scored his nails across his chest, hips rocking harder into his fist as he chased his orgasm to the beat of his thoughts: Hawke’s mouth wrapped around him, eyes wet from choking eagerly on his length; Hawke bent over and spreading his ass for Anders’ cock, his tight hole glistening with lube; Hawke tied up, left aching, cock flushed purple and dripping, begging, _Please, Anders, touch me, fuck me, hurt me, please let me come, Father…_

Anders gave a strangled, muted cry, curling forward as he came hard, shaking and gasping, squeezing his cock to wring out every shiver of pleasure. When he’d finally calmed, he opened his eyes, wincing at the mess and feeling the shame of his actions take hold. 

Guiltily, he cleaned himself off as best he could and muttered forgiveness as he righted his clothing. He nearly choked when he discovered traces of cum on the prayer cushion and fervently scrubbed at the fabric with his shirt, flipping the cushion over and kicking it into the corner where it belonged. 

Anders had hours of prayer ahead of him for his transgressions, and though he wanted to blame Hawke entirely for driving him to such weakness, he knew it wouldn’t be fair. He sighed in resignation and left his work for the morning, hoping that tomorrow he’d have more control over himself.


End file.
